"They never look to see me fly, so I never have to lie," — Imagine Dragons, Tiptoe.

FINNEGAN.

I'm sat watching over her.

She demanded at first to watch over me, but she eventually drifted off. I woke up soon after, and Zamuel offered me the watching shift, which I gladly accepted.

Time to think, right? I was happy to have it.

I think Absidee was really affected by that first death, before the Games had even really started. Properly started, I mean, officially, as in my opinion they started the second we were both reaped back in 4.

That girl from 12.

One second she was there, the next... gone.

I wonder how Haymitch will be holding up back in the Capitol.

I wonder how Absidee is really holding up.

Her angle is to act all confident, just as they'd expect, but really I think that, already, these Games have shaken her up.

That added aspect of her own cousin entering and winning these very Games a few years ago, perhaps?

Or is there more to it than that? Possibly.

I can ask her sometime, maybe.

Our campout is a wide space carved out in the rock. The grate is just above us, but no light seeps in during the night, obviously.

All of the underground system is cut out of the rock, and all the tunnels connect up to each other, in some way or another, I should think.

We could explore more in the morning.

But there's another thing I'm extremely curious about. The scream I heard earlier before we all fell asleep.

Screaming at someone called 'Sandy'?

Pleading not to be killed, I suppose.

Perhaps a cold hearted tribute murdering their district partner, or an alliance gone wrong incredibly early.

But my ideas are just theories, I want to know the real reason.

I hold back the urge just to get up and explore now; that'd be too dangerous, plus, someone could try and attack the sleeping Careers whilst I left, and even if my allies did manage to kill their attacker, it's likelihood that I'd be killed for ditching my post in the middle of the night.

Besides, the dark holds many secrets, the majority of them bad, especially in a place like this.

I lean back against the wall in a slouched position.

Earlier Thamilia handed me a few weapons: knives.

Small knives which I could hurl across a room with the flick of a wrist.

I couldn't tell exactly what type of blade they had in this light, I'd be able to inspect more in the morning.

I play with one of them in my belt, feeling a bit uneasy.

Will I kill someone with this very knife sometime during these Games? It's likely, much to my dismay.

I try to take my mind off the probability of myself killing someone, who is still alive and breathing in this very arena, and think about food.

We're positioned near the Cornucopia, and we have enough supplies down here with us anyway, but what about if we run out of food (unlikely, I know, but still). Or if something happened to the food and it was all blown up or washed away or something ridiculous? What would we do then?

Well, luckily, I can weave nets.

My family's way of making money back in 4 was by making nets and selling them to the local fisherman, selling them at the market, or just selling them to the Capitol through the Capitol official who visited every month to check up on our district.

We'd sell them to him, then he'd sell them back in the Capitol. It was a nice little business.

Why would the Capitol need fishing nets, though, I can basically hear you ask.

Ah, well, it's not that they [ITALICS]need[/] them, it's for nothing like practical use or anything remotely useful. It's for decor.

Yes, they decorate their homes with fishing nets, some of them do.

I've heard a rumour that mostly Finnick Odair's loves do this, to show that they've been with him.

How cringy.

I look down at Absidee, sleeping as if she hasn't a care in the world.

I guess that the explosion of one of 12's tributes is not haunting her dreams tonight.

My best guess of her dream tonight, would be of the sea.

She's spoken of it to me before, the sea, I mean, during one of our sunset sessions, as I liked to secretly call them, back in the Capitol. She just loves the sea.

'Stop!' A voice suddenly grabs my attention. It's only quiet to me, but I can still pick put what this person is saying.

'Antony, I thought you loved me? I thought—' the voice continues, and I can tell it's female.

'Save me your pathetic ideas of what we were,' a male voice snarls. It sounds almost robotic. Not human. Something isn't right.

These voices are coming from above us, so they must be on ground level. Just as the previous death was. Whether that's significant or not, I have no idea as of yet.

'Antony, stop,' the girl sobs. 'You promised—'

'Promised what? It was lies, Annalise, all lies.'

The girl wails again. She's bound to die.

Either this Antony will get her, or another tribute, probably 7, will hear her cries and sort her out.

There's a scream, quickly cut off, then the firing of a cannon, and an audible zapping sound. Whatever that was, I'm not sure.

Thamilia stirs at the sound of the cannon and I beg her telepathically to stay asleep

But, of course, she doesn't.

Why doesn't telepathy seem to ever work for me? I did the same at the reaping; hope not to be picked. But hey ho, despite it seeming like all the odds were in my favour, I was chosen. Damn. Just my luck.

'What happened?' Her eyes flicker around the room with lightning speed.

Thamilia has already established herself to be the leader of this gang, so I watch myself and my mouth around her. One wrong word, and I could be dead within seconds.

Her killing is quick, but somewhat merciful compared to what I've seen in the past during my compulsory viewing of the Games back home.

I saw it during the bloodbath, her killing.

'Another one's dead,' I say bluntly. She wants the facts, nothing else.

'Any idea who?'

'None.'

'I suppose we'll find out tomorrow, then, hm?'

'Yes,' I say, she falls back onto her side and soon drifts off again.

And I'm left to my own thoughts again. Joy.

So, who's gone?

Yes, I refer to the fallen tributes as being gone, rather than killed or murdered.

I like to think that it'll soften the blow if I do eventually kill.

Really it definitely doesn't though.

It's still another life taken.

A murder.

It's likely we'll all become murderers.

Perhaps what that girl from 12 did was best?

Die her own way.

Die rather than murder, or be murdered.

Because that's what it is in this game, isn't it? Murder or be murdered.

Anyway. I've gone off on a tangent slightly, again.

The fallen, who happen to be gone from this world permanently.

I recall the hologram from the Gamemakers earlier in my mind.

There's the girl from 3, much to my surprise; the tributes from 3 seemed to have a plan sorted between them, then there's the girl from 5, the boy from 10, both from 11, and, of course, the girl from 12.

I begin to the stab the ground to my right with the knife I was handling earlier in an attempt to entertain myself, but I'm failing.

I hear a groan and hope it's not anyone from 1 or 2 awakening.

I wouldn't mind Absidee's company at all.

'Still awake?' her voice says, and I smile. Thank Panem she's awake, not one of the others.

'You fell asleep.'

She smiles, it has to be the first time she has done since entering the arena.

'I guess so.'

'Any nightmares?' I ask softly.

'Not yet.'

I notice the moonlight filtering through the grate. Perhaps there is some light after all.

The little light there is lands on Absidee's head, highlighting her hairstyle, of all things.

It's a braided do, wrapped around her head.

It looks beautiful.

FINNICK.

Me and Selene have agreed on one thing: to have rotating shifts every night.

Seeing as Finnegan and Absidee are together, it seems a good idea for only one of us to stay up and watch the Games.

I prefer staying up anyway.

I fear greatly the possibility that one morning I could wake up to some horrific news.

Second hand information.

I'd rather find out first hand, strangely.

Nothing's happening much at the moment.

6 are dead so far, none of them being any of the Careers.

That girl from 12, when she stepped off the podium just a second to early, shocked the Capitol's citizens, and no doubt shocked Absidee. She saw it herself, and ever since I can see that look she holds in her eyes.

Hopefully it'll leave her soon enough. Hopefully.

But Finnegan and Absidee.

I run my hands through my hair as I observe the screen.

I actually swear something happened between them.

Probably not back home, although that seems to make the most sense.

She never mentioned him once back home. Not once.

But why would she go for him when it's likely he'll die in less than a month?

Perhaps she can't help herself, I have no idea.

But it will kill her when he dies.

It will tear her apart.

I saw her sleeping in his arms back in our district apartment.

And Selene had informed me about how they'd spend hours together, up on the roof, I think.

I'm so worried.

But their closeness just makes me think about Annie, back at home in 4.

This is like my own hell here, trying to help my cousin, my oldest and best friend, survive.

It's thing like being in the Games again, I realise, but I hate it. I detest being here, doing this every year.

But I have no choice.

Just like how I have no choice with Snow selling me in order to gain political favour for himself.

Maybe I should've just done as the girl from 12 did. Stepped off that podium early and ended it quick and easy. Just like that.

But that wouldn't be right.

It'd be selfish. I think.

I look up at the screen again, Finnegan and Absidee are in conversation.

I don't know what about, I don't listen. But I can see them. Growing closer and closer by the minute.

He beckons her over to him, and she falls into his arms.

'No!' I say aloud. What are they doing?

I doubt many citizens will be watching at this time of night, luckily.

Potential sponsors could view this display as a weakness.

If they come as a pair, they could be killed as a pair.

If one dies, the other will probably be overcome by sadness and despair for days and days.

WEAK.

Of course they're not weak, though.

At least, not yet.

The arena is unpredictable.

Emotions are unpredictable.

Anyone could break at any time.

You don't know who, why, or when. Or how.

Finnegan whispers into Absidee's ear and I curse under my breath. If he comes back here alive I'll have a few things to say to him.

She smiles happily, and I groan loudly.

'Jeez, what's happened? You're groaning more than that escort of your district's whenever someone hides her wig,' a surprisingly sober voice says from behind me.

'This has happened, Haymitch.' I gesture to the screen above me with agitation.

He studies the images for a moment before sighing. 'Sadly this isn't the first time this has happened, is it?'

I nod. It occasionally happens; either a boyfriend and girlfriend are somehow reaped, or one is reaped and the boyfriend or girlfriend will volunteer to keep the other safe (usually in Career districts), or, even sadder, two tributes just happen to somehow fall in love with each other during the Games.

The second is more common than the others.

'Why are you up at this time of night, Haymitch?' is all I say.

'Couldn't sleep. The ruddy 12 escort has hidden my alcohol.'

Well that explains him actually being sober for once.

'How're your tributes?' I ask.

He points to one of the monitors. 'Not great.

'The boy's a mess, he has no sponsors whatsoever. There's no chance he'll survive the next couple of days, let alone week.'

'I'm sorry,' I say sincerely.

'Don't be. It's the same every year isn't it.'

It's not a question. Just a simple, blunt fact.

The truth hurts, doesn't it?

'Don't look now,' Haymitch says quickly, but his words don't deter me, and if anything, make me look up quicker than ever before.

Up on the screen is something I really don't want to see.

Finnegan and Dee are pressed up against each other kissing.

What the hell am I going to do?